


The Spring Sun in your Eyes

by Nobodyhasblindedme



Series: London werelings...in London [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Fluff, Light Angst, Lots and lots of Dan introspection, NOT OMEGAVERSE, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobodyhasblindedme/pseuds/Nobodyhasblindedme
Summary: Dan's mind has a funny way of messing with the rest of his body after winter is over, but nothing he or Phil can't cope with. This one happens to leave him a little worser for it is all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Even more plot bunnies for this universe. Ugh...I have so much else to work on...why here, why now???
> 
> Anyways, more were kids over analyzing their queerplatonic partners, themselves, and life in general. Sorry there's not much wolf action here, but it felt like Dan needed to say something. Lots of domestic-ness.

Life had been extraordinarily kind to the wereling pack-of-two, Dan thinks. In a number of ways, not least of which was figuring out what was 'wrong' with him at a young age and managing it with inexplicably few bumps so far.

If they were a little more clumsy then usual on their own two feet for a few weeks after they got back from their winter excursions, it wasn't mentioned by their friends (those not in the know). The both of them (Phil especially) had always been clumsy and a bit awkward in their own bodies. If they spoke a little less, a little quieter even for them, if they moved and gestured and made little noises that meant something only between them rather then speak, they weren't asked if something was wrong. Nothing was. If anyone noticed that the side-dishes and sweets that came with their food when they went out were mostly left untouched, and the meats they consumed were a little more underdone then most would have it, no-none brought it up.

It was just Dan and Phil. They were just like this. Always a little off the beaten path, always only dipping their feet into the world of others from the safety of their own.

There was the question, sometimes, that even Dan thought about during long afternoons and quiet days spent alone in his room..if existing merely your own little world with one other had more pitfalls then previously foreseen.

Dan wasn't sure why exactly they never talked about _it_. Or why it was refered to and kept as the nameless concept of /i >it at all. Being a wereling...it wasn't like even Dan was stupid enough to consider talking about it in broad daylight, but in the confines of their own home, in the bedrooms while Phil lay beside him as Dan typed away at another script or twitter post or looked through Internet Support Group emails and it was just the two of them in the relative silence for a while...he figured it was something they could at least mention more then when absolutely necessary.

Sometimes Dan wanted to feel angry about it. Wanted to demand to know if Phil was somehow ashamed of this part of themselves - of themselves at all, no seperating wolf from human, they were one and the same no matter what body they happened to have at the moment. Was - was that it, Dan wondered, pausing his typing often as the thought took it's hold. Did Phil see all of this as a bad thing? Dan...Before Phil, and subsequently PJ and Chris, he'd never had a proper pack to run with. His parents knew about his lycanthropy, urged by the small underground wereling society to keep this under lock and key so DAn never had other pups to connect with. Meeting Phil had been, in so many ways, like a dream realized into flesh and blood. And Scent. God, if there was one thing Dan loved about Phil almost more then knowing he had a real packmate the first time he'd gotten close enough to him, it was his scent. Like green growing things and sunlight on warm fur. Comfort. Phil must have smelled him too, above the clogging grease and grit and snapping, burning electricity of the Metro, and in unspoken words, lines were drawn and secrets revealed and reveled in.

So...what was this, then? The friendship and unlabled layer on top of that that had developed had been so, so easy compared to whatever this was now.

Dan looked over to his companion now, who was blinking slowly at the tv and hands idling on his own computer, a finger thoughtlessly tracing where a sticker met the cold surface of the laptop shell. Phil didn't usually take naps, especially so late in the afternoon when he knew he'd be up for the rest of the night because of it, but it had only been a short while since they'd...come back, so to speak. The lingering chill of the air outside made both of them feel as though parts of them ought to still be tucked into a quiet earthen den somewhere, noses in each other's coats and dozing the day away as long as they liked. Dan jerkily typed another half sentence, but his mind was still elsewhere from the snapping witticism of the sketch outline.

He wondered if he should ask. Something in his chest soundlessly immediately protested at the idea though, and Dan pointedly told it to bugger off. And, if he was looking at his totally objectively, it wasn't like it was some _taboo_ between the two of them to speak about at all (like certain things they had buried -figuratively - and both agreed would never, ever be brought up again) but...

They just didn't talk about it.

Dan pulled back his lips to bare his teeth a bit in frustration, the action gaining Phil's flickering interest for a moment, but assuming it was just a tricky script and looked away again. What...would he even have to say? Yes, Dan felt a little miffed (maybe more then a little) at this unforeseen emotional roadblock, but did he even have more then that to complain about? Was it even a problem? They _did_ talk about what they needed to talk about; arrangements to get to the winter territory, videos filmed in advance ready to be queued and some vague twitter posts much the same way for the months when they weren't...in possession of thumbs, for one thing. So really, what more needed saying about it all?

Dan was a wereling, Phil was a wereling. They had a pack, there was a community in London a little more chatty and open then others they'd met willing to help if asked (discreetly). They had a flat, jobs, relative flexibility in their lives, and...each other.

They had each other most of all, Dan's willing to admit.

"Hey." Dan tries not to stiffen as Phil's voice breaks the air, cracking a little with his disuse of it most of the day.

"Hm?" Dan hums, eyes staying on his computer screen and beginning to tap out words again. Whether those words even related to what he had been writing in the first place is of no consequence. Phil doesn't say anything again for a while, but Dan can feel his eyes still on him, head turned to watch him peck away at the keys from under dark lashes. Dan doesn't need to see him to know he's getting _a look_. Maybe not _the look_ but certainly one of the many Phil keeps in his repertoire.

"Y'alright? You kinda..." he trails off, and Dan raises his eyebrow in what he can only hope passes as a good 'yeah??' face.

He's never been able to fool Phil with something like this though, but congratulations, he tried. Fucking gold star.

"What," he intones, looking over for the first time, knowing his lack of eye contact would give him away more then he was probably already giving himself away with it. Phil was indeed looking at him with that teal thoughtfulness, slightly hazy in the glow of the evening coming in from behind the blinds and the white room.

Dan blinks for a moment, thoughts slowing on their track as he contends with that look and the air around them. It wasn't a problem. He - shit, he wasn't going to be the one to _make_ it a problem -

"Wait, what's the problem?"

As if he'd not been found out already, the wince Dan couldn't smother certainly would have done the trick. H'd been thinking so hard he'd started muttering to himself. Another hold-over from their other lives, probably. Still, now Phil was actively siting up, expression a bit expectant and paying attention to anything Dan had to say. Which, again, was nothing.

"Why don't we ever -talk. About it," Dan stammers.

Well, not nothing.

It's hard to get a read on Phil after the question (statement?) is left hanging in the air. It's not like it's an unforeseen reaction either. He...likes to mull things over, turing them over and over in his head until he's come to some form of conclusion before offering any part of what his mind has concocted. It's yet another thing people seem to refuse to give him credit for - being the real thoughtful one in this relationship. Sure, Dan can while away the hours contemplating what, if anything, the universe means, keep himself awake all night with pondering what it means to live, to die, if his life accounts for anything in the grand plan of the cosmos at all...But it's Phil who actually understands people, more then he lets on.

He isn't put off by Dan's supposedly unexpected query at all, from the outside. "Do...you _want_ to talk about it?"

It's such a simple question. And just the opportunity Dan had waffled about needing all this time.

So why did his tongue suddenly feel like it had swelled behind his teeth which weren't helping the matter by locking into place, seeming like a crowbar couldn't pry them apart.

Phil must have sensed his hesitance. "We don't have to if...you're not feeling it. Um. Is there something that's bothering you about not talking about it?"

Again, the perfect opening for Dan to jump in and start the conversation he'd been itching for, Phil was dropping lines for him to pick up willy-nilly...and Dan was just sitting there like a lump on the couch, not for the first time in his life awkwardly mute (though perhaps the first time it was as inconvenient as it was right then.) He continued to just look at Phil, an expression across Dan's face he could tell was not unlike a rabbit caught in the gaze of a hungry predator. It was a look Dan knew well enough to know when he was mimicking it.

It was perhaps the silly thought of thinking of Phil as much of a predator at that moment - snuggled up under the layers of blankets they had piled onto the couch in a cosy nest, mussed hair and soft muppet pajamas - that broke Dan's silence. Phil wasn't here to hunt him down for his words, never had been.

"Do you like being - what we are," Dan asked lowly, as confident as he could, pausing only minutly on the essential point.

Phil cocked his head a little. "I'm guessing you mean..the thing."

Dan pursed his lips at the phrasing. "Yes. That. And - and why do we keep calling it that? Just... _the thing_. I mean...you're not..."

Dan's words stuck in his throat again. _You're not ashamed, right? You're not scared? Of me, of yourself, like you're really like those inhuman grotesque creatures humans have made of werelings and wolves in history. You can't see yourself like that when you look in the mirror, Phil...right?_

"You're not just avoiding talking about how it's an inconvenience - I hope you're not," DAn comments in place of everything else. He doesn't even mean to. As soon as he says it, he feels...slimy. Gross. He's the one avoiding things now, and has the audacity to accuse his own pack, his brother-in-all-but-blood, his...whatever he and Phil are aside from friends...of being the one avoiding things.

In any case, it seems too late to take it back and come clean as to what his heart actually wishes to say as Phil's expression turns from slightly sleepy and interested to something that could be shock, a definite edge of condfusion. His scent changes too, Dan can tell with how close he is to the other and how different it is, suddenly filling the small space between them. He wants to crawl into a hole and never come out at how Phil's eyes, deep within the swimming blues and warrior yellows look...hurt.

"Are you kidding? Dan what - were did this come from? Of course not! It isn't - wasn't." He's looking at Dan expectantly, hoping for some form of explanation as to this shift in mood in their slow day, why now, why this.

Dan wishes he had a better answer. Or was better perhaps at keeping a lid on his stupid dirt-brain worms.

As it stood, he licks his lips and breaks their little intense, unintentional staring contest to try and properly focus his thoughts. "I don't understand why we tip-toe around the issues that being what we are brings up with like, Youtube and stuff. Don't say there's nothing it fucks with. Us leaving every winter certainly does."

He's grasping at straws, he can feel it, but if life has taught Dan anything about himself it's that he won't stop digging this hole until his claws hit rock bottom and he has to turn around and face what he's running from and the mess he made of it. Or maybe dig himself sideways. He's pretty proficient by now of doing that too.

Phil worries his lip though, Dan's words starting to take root in his mind. And it's not like Dan's planing seeds of lies or anything - this past winter really was cutting it a little close. Some fans had started to worry about the pair's sporadic uploads, the slightly off-m.o. tweets and pictures. Maybe that's what all of this bubbling under the surface and barely seeping out really is. The thought of _someone_ getting too close. Seeing something, connecting dots.

Their fans are extraordinarily good at it at times. They've been given...a lot of practice.

"You're suggesting we just stop going north then. For winter?" Phil looks uncomfortable with even putting he word out there at all. Dan thinks getting his leg caught in a bear-trap and being forced to gnaw it off wouldn't be adequate punishment for ever having put that expression there.

"I - no. What? No, look..it's..."

He's back to floundering again, looking for words that aren't there. Phil's scent is back to being confused again, bitter and tickling, sitting up rigidly on the sofa next to him and probably trying to piece together the same thoughts as Dan. Too bad neither of their brains came with a hatch so the other could just take a look-see inside when speaking didn't work, and scents meant nothing.

"Hell, I don't know," Dan growls, licking his teeth. It's not good, but...it is the most honest thing he's said so far in this conversation.

He thinks Phil appreciates it anyways. He relaxes again, though so minutely it's almost lost in the cushiness of the couch-and-blanket nest, a sigh that could just as easily be a breath. It feels like a closing. Dan's...not sure he likes that either. Fucking...

"Well, we've got a whole 'mother year to think about it, right? We're back for now."

Technically true. Dan side-eyes his roommate, the best expression of dubiousness contorting his face. It feels mostly genuine.

"Wow Phil. Maybe something really is wrong, you're starting to procrastinate with the best of them."

"What, what best of them being you, then?"

Dan just shrugs. "If the shoe fits," he snarks. The air is lighter. Phil is leaning back against the cushions, and looking at his with that slightly lofty expression and a tilted head he's somehow able to replicate perfectly in animal form even. It's quietly goofy, teasing like a tug at his ear or tail with gentle teeth.

It's good. It's fine.

Whether it's good thing or not, Dan's mind decided then that putting whatever little picking insect was making him feel like something was wrong at all back in it's box and shoving it in some corner of his mind for later is the best idea. He says something to Phil, smiling with his teeth to provoke him just a little farther, enough to get a (well-deserved) poff in the face with one of the couch pillows and a pout from his pack mate, poking accusations of cereal theft and two-am bedroom pacing lightly thrown back and forth.

Easy enough to slip back into normalcy. Easy enough to think the problem was just Dan's overcomplicated human mind not realizing it's got what it needs right here, in perfect simplicity.

Besides, Dan thinks as he scrambles after Phil from the lounge and down the hallway to chase him into his own bedroom when the other makes a go with hands primed for tickling, how did that saying go?

Wolves don't lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.


End file.
